


viens changer ma vie (come change my life)

by griefhoney



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Dark Academia, Developing Friendships, Falling In Love, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-19 13:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15510999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griefhoney/pseuds/griefhoney
Summary: a room named after the greek goddess of revenge, new friends, new teachers and a secret that leads to the bottom of a river.donghyuck is new to a lot of things; school, love, and fear to name only a few. but na jaemin is by far the newest and strangest of them all.





	1. we're walking separately on parallel lines

**Author's Note:**

> i'm reading the secret history and the urge to write dark academia fucking drop-kicked me into hell  
> also thank you to [mel](https://twitter.com/nahyuck) for being the beta for this!! and thank you to [nini](https://twitter.com/hyuckheis) for indulging my ranting and stuff,, i love u to the moon and back  
> (any mistakes left are my own) 
> 
> (rating, tags etc might change in future chapters)

Donghyuck is sharing the backseat with his trunk, legs cramped in the limited space and arms folded, somewhat petulantly, across his chest.

The countryside outside the car window rolls by in smudges of green, brown and blue. Now and again a cow or a sheep breaks up the endless stream of color as it looks up to watch the Ford Cortina, painted in what is a decidedly unnatural shade of baby-blue, creep along the winding, pot-holed country roads.

Inside the car, the radio and the engine make an admirable effort at filling up the silence that sits heavily between mother and son.

 _Tu peux me donner le souffle qui manque à ma vie_ , trails quietly through the air and Donghyuck mouths the words soundlessly at his reflection.

A sudden bend in the road has Donghyuck's trunk careening into his side, one of the hard corners digging painfully in between his ribs.

Leaning forward slightly to complain he catches sight of the looming, cathedral-like building that shoves itself into view and closes his mouth with an audible _click_.

A white, spindly-looking clock tower rises up from the middle of the building like a skeleton finger, stripped bare of flesh. It pierces the sky and, apparently also one of Donghyuck's lungs because breathing suddenly becomes very difficult.

He sinks back into his seat, tucking his chin into his chest to avoid facing reality.

 

A river flows right through the school grounds and Donghyuck watches the sunlight bounce and dance on the rushing water, flickering in and out between the trees that line its course like sentinels. Black willow trees lean protectively over the water, branches swaying lazily even with no breeze in the air.

The road had smoothed out the moment they passed through an impressive pair of wrought iron gates and onto school property. Property that, according to the brochure Donghyuck had tucked in his jacket pocket, stretches on for acres and acres of land.

In front of the school, a disorderly semi-circle of cars had formed, bonnets and windows gleaming dully in the stagnant afternoon sunlight.

Beyond that looms the school, flanked on either side by four, just as menacing red-brick dorm buildings.

His mother clears her throat uncomfortably as she eases the car into a vacant spot on the edge of the semi-circle. Donghyuck tears his gaze away from the school and its clock tower and focuses somewhere just to the left of his mother's head.

The radio switches off with a sad sort of fizz of static and they're left in silence.

She opens her mouth to speak but Donghyuck cuts her off by forcing the car door open, pausing only to heave his trunk out behind him.

A few awkward seconds pass as she clambers out of the driver's side.

"So," Donghyuck says as she looks around at the school with wide, terrified eyes, "this it then? For now?"

She blinks down at him, almost as if she's surprised to see him there. "I suppose," she says and leaves it at that.

 With some effort, Donghyuck manages to suppress the urge to kick his trunk in frustration.

"Right."

Apparently realizing her mistake she tries for a smile that falls spectacularly flat, the September light making it very obvious that it doesn't reach her eyes even in the slightest.

 "You'll write, won't you?"

Donghyuck nods, knowing that he won't.

"I might not reply." Another chilly smile. "So much to do and all."

"That's fine," Donghyuck replies. Because it is.

She reaches out then, a leather-gloved forefinger coming up to his cheek to rub at a smudge of dirt that isn't there. It's a clumsy gesture, well-meaning but not particularly natural.

"Make some" – her hand flutters awkwardly in the air – "make some friends here. Alright?"

Donghyuck ducks out from under her gaze to grab the handle of his trunk. "I'll try."

Her dark hair glints as she nods, apparently satisfied with his less-than-enthusiastic reply.

"Take care," Donghyuck says, at a loss of anything else to say.

"I'll try," she says, imitating his reply with a smile that – while not exactly warm – at least makes the foundation around her eyes and mouth crack a little.

A strained silence. 

"Well," Donghyuck starts uncomfortably, "I'll see you later then?"

The word _later_ hangs between them like moldy, overripe fruit.    

"Later," she repeats, expression souring almost imperceptibly.

The noise of the people around them swells briefly to fill the gap between them. Donghyuck glances up at the sun, then at the clock tower and then back at his mother.

"At Christmas maybe?" He offers, already edging away.

She nods, distracted. "Whenever you want."

The thing is Donghyuck doesn't _want_ to see her. At Christmas or any other occasion.

So he just nods jerkily and turns away completely, trunk dragging behind him.

 

Having successfully navigated his way through too many cars, trunks and summer dresses to count Donghyuck finally reaches the place where the concrete path splits into three directions. One leading straight up to the school's main entrance and the other two veering sharply to the left and right where the dorm buildings loom.

He pauses, hand digging around in his trouser pocket for a slip of paper that had come in the post along with his book list. 

 _Lee, Donghyuk_.

That's his name. Spelled wrong, which is generally unimportant but had left Donghyuck so irritated that he got up in the middle of the night to pencil in a rather petty looking _c_ above the narrow space between the _u_ and the _k_.

With some effort, he manages to look past the spelling error and to the actually important information printed underneath.

_Willow House (left)_

_R: Nemesis._

The last bit makes no apparent sense so Donghyuck ignores it and starts down the lefthand path.

Twin, immaculate lawns sprawl out between the dorm buildings and school and Donghyuck counts at least 7 little signs that threaten detention and  _imply_ a certain, bloody death if someone so much as puts a toe on the grass.

At some point the path makes the transition into gravel and Donghyuck crunches along, trunk bumping against his heels.

The first dorm building he passes has an impressive brass plate nailed above the oak, double-door. Donghyuck almost pauses to read it but then catches sight of a student sitting on a bench, half-hidden in the shrubs under the ground floor windows. The brief, uncomfortable eye contact is enough to urge him along a little quicker than before.

The second building somehow manages to loom larger than the first. Uncertainty worms its way under the collar of his shirt and he cranes his neck to peer up at the attic gables, painted a tastefully neutral shade of moss green. It's pretty obvious that the dorms were built in a different century than the actual school, which looks like it had housed monks at one point or another.

It's disconcerting, living in a place so old. Thoughts of ghosts, ghouls, bloodthirsty headless monks and other assorted grisly apparitions flutter briefly through Donghyuck's head before a relieved shout brings him firmly back to reality.

A boy (in the broadest sense of the word) has apparently materialized out of a hedgerow.

" _Finally_ ," he says while taking long strides into Donghyuck's personal space, "I thought I was going to rot away out of sheer _boredom_." 

He's talking like they know each other which they definitely don't and Donghyuck edges away slightly, barely avoiding tripping over his trunk.

It's a combination of first-day nerves and the fact that the strange boy has a certain princely air about him that makes Donghyuck's skin crawl with a fresh, more self-conscious bout of nerves.

"Um..."

"Right" – the boy runs a hand through a dark mop of hair that looks like it's gone through quite a lot – "right. You're new, aren't you? Year 9? No, wait you don't look twelve years old. Year 12?"

"Year 12," Donghyuck confirms.

" _Adorable_!" isn't the response Donghyuck expected but he shakes the hand he's offered anyway.

"So," the boy says, dropping his hand quite hastily, "new, huh?" Donghyuck pretends he doesn't notice him inconspicuously wiping it on the back of his trousers.

Not entirely sure why he's expected to confide in this complete stranger Donghyuck simply nods.

"Well, welcome to Willow house. Your home for the next 39 weeks. I'm Willow's prefect and – wait, did I tell you my name? 

Donghyuck shakes his head.

The boy beams, unperturbed. "Sicheng. Sicheng _Dong_ technically but I prefer being mononymous."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Donghyuck says in an unconscious imitation of his mother.

" _Charmed_ ," Sicheng repeats distractedly and pulls a red clipboard out of thin air. Donghyuck tries not to stare. "Now," he says, "I'm gonna need your name, kid."

"Lee, Donghyuck. That's Donghyuck with a _c_."

Sicheng hums, gaze trailing down his clipboard. "Donghyuck, Donghyuck – a- _ha_! Here you are. You're in _Nemesis_ on the 2nd floor."

"Nemesis," Donghyuck repeats, unsure.

"All the rooms for Woodside and Willow are named after ancient Greek deities. They" – he jerks a thumb at the dorm buildings across the lawn behind them – "are all named after Roman deities and spirits. Maybe emperors too, I'm not entirely sure."

"That's," Donghyuck pauses, "nice?"

Sicheng laughs and shrugs, tucking the clipboard under one arm. "Makes it easier for teachers to put a whole room in detention. But, honestly, the guy who came up with it was just some pretentious old white man who had a hard-on for the Classics. It doesn't really mean much at all."

Donghyuck opens his mouth to reply but a shout from the other side of the courtyard cuts him off. A boy – tall and handsome even at a distance, with a broad masculine face and posture that screams wealth – is strolling across the grass towards them.

Dimly wondering if everyone at this cursed school is frighteningly attractive Donghyuck retreats a little, bumping his heel against the hard side of his trunk in a nervous rhythm.

" _Hyun-ie_!" Sicheng's voice pitches upwards, arms spreading in greeting.

"I should go," Donghyuck says quietly and takes Sicheng's kind, unfocused smile as permission to flee.

 

Three flights of stairs later and Donghyuck's standing on the landing of what is to be his home and refuge for the next year. He's going to spend four seasons here. Autumn, winter, spring and the stuttering beginnings of summer in June.

He's never been in a place long enough to see it go through all four and the idea excites some romantic part of his brain that isn't sluggish with anxiety.

Dragging his trunk behind him he walks past the communal bathroom for this floor, which reeks strongly of disinfectant and teenage angst, and two rooms that stand empty, doors half-open to reveal the hollowness within. Walls bare and beds stripped of any possible comfort.

The corridor is wood paneled with old-fashioned lamps fixed to the walls and a thick, red carpet that swallows up any sound or light that makes it past the landing and the small French windows at the far end of the corridor. It's stuffy and suffocating and Donghyuck turns his attention to the small brass plates fixed to the doors as a distraction.

He recognizes the name of room 12: _Eros_ , god of...love. Probably. He's not entirely sure, Greek mythology wasn't a subject he ever really paid attention to. Room 11 has _Hebe_ inscribed on its plate which doesn't ring a bell but Room 13's _Nike_ does

Donghyuck can't help but wish he'd been put in Nike's room, goddess of victory and all that. It might've been encouraging.

The room across from his is called _Elpis_ , which isn't a name he recognizes so he ignores it.

The brass plate on his door glints promisingly and he reaches for the handle before any treacherous thoughts can stop him and indefinitely strand him in the corridor.

With a creak that makes him shiver the door swings open to reveal a large-ish room with a surprisingly high ceiling, creamy yellow wallpaper, and three bay windows that look out onto the football pitch and forest beyond. There's a window seat piled high with quilts and pillows and four beds, two on each side of the room.

And there's a person sitting on the first bed on the lefthand side.

Donghyuck stands frozen in the doorway, caught in the act of coming into a room he's _allowed_ to be in, something that hasn't quite registered with his brain which is telling him to apologize and flee for the hills.

The boy gets up from where he'd been sitting cross-legged on the bare mattress. He's a lot shorter than Donghyuck thought he was. Thinner too, the denim jacket he's wearing hangs off his shoulders and Donghyuck can't help but think that he looks about one week of pneumonia away from looking _frail_. The black turtleneck he's wearing contrasts rather sharply with the general pallor of his face.

It's a slim face too, with shrewd eyes and a forehead framed by a gentle, carefully styled swoop of dark hair.

The word _elfin_ pops into his mind unbidden and Donghyuck mechanically holds out a hand.

"Hi," he says. The boy's grip his surprisingly firm. "I'm Donghyuck Lee. Your new roommate by the looks of it."

The boy drops his hand and smiles. "Hi, Donghyuck Lee. I'm Renjun and yeah" – he looks around the barren room – "sure does look like it."

 

Renjun is surprisingly easy to talk to.

They're both new to the school so they have plenty of shared anxieties to bond over.

Aside from the trunk already standing at the foot of Renjun's chosen bed, there's a whole pile of other things piled up beside it, which Renjun explains are absolutely necessary as he watches Donghyuck drag his trunk to the bed of his choice.

"All the way over there?" He laughs. "One would think you don't want to be close to me."

"One _would_ think that," Donghyuck replies with a grunt as he shoves the trunk against the metal frame of the bed, "but one would be wrong." He puffs his fringe out of his eyes and grins at Renjun who's sat back down, the toes of his black, polished shoes tapping rhythmically against the hardwood floor. "I just like being close to windows."

"That bed's near the windows too." He points at the bed next to his.

"Do you _want_ me to sleep next to you?"

Renjun considers this. "I suppose not," he says and Donghyuck laughs.

After arranging and re-arranging his trunk a couple of times Donghyuck finally settles on a pile of quilts on the window seat. Renjun migrates onto the remaining bed by the windows and they both sit in silence for a while.

Clear, afternoon sunlight spills through the windows, flecking the dark oak floor with patches of light so bright that it makes Donghyuck want to sneeze.

Outside is the football pitch where the grass is as prim and proper as the lawns out in the courtyard. It'll be ruined within a week, a hundred or so school-issued PE trainers will see to that. Donghyuck had always been quite fond of football. A large portion of his childhood was spent out on badly kept stretches of grass with a secondhand football and bloody knees and bruised shins, so he's anything but sad about the thought of ruining a perfectly good pitch.

It'll make things feel a bit more like home.

"Are you going to take any extracurriculars?" Renjun's voice breaks through the contemplative bubble Donghyuck had made for himself and he blinks, somewhat dazedly, against the sun.

"Extracurriculars?"

"Yeah, like" – he pulls a colorful brochure out of his pocket and squints at it – "like rowing, maybe. Since there's a river nearby. Or...the school choir, or football, or rugby, or – well, I could go on."

Donghyuck presses a hand against the cool glass of one of the window panes and says, "I'm taking drama and theatre so I guess I'll join the drama club. If there is one, that is."

"Yeah," Renjun nods, still skimming the brochure, "I'll probably do the same with art."

"Oh, you're taking art?" Donghyuck says, refocusing his attention.

Renjun waves the brochure in the general direction of his bed and trunk and all the other, indistinguishable bags that are scattered around. "What do think all that stuff is?"

Donghyuck shrugs.

" _Necessities_."

Zeroing in on one particularly bulky parcel Donghyuck points it out. "What's that then?"

"My easel," Renjun says simply. "It's collapsable"

"Shouldn't they have that sort of stuff in the art classrooms?"

Although the bright afternoon sun is doing a good job of draining most of the color out of Renjun's face Donghyuck still manages to catch the hints of an embarrassed flush rising in his cheeks. "It's not like I can just _take_ one of the school easels and take it up here with me," he says. 

"I don't know," Donghyuck shrugs "you might."

"Probably not, though. And anyway, I like having my own easel here. Makes it feel a bit less – less –"

"Foreign?"

Renjun's shoulders sag gratefully and he nods. "Foreign, yeah," he echoes.

 They share a smile over the shared sentiment.

"I'll probably pick up football again," Donghyuck says, glancing back outside at the pristine pitch and the surrounding forest. The sky has turned the pale, sickly blue of high afternoon, the air having become warm enough to make even color feel faint.

"Football?"

"Yeah." Donghyuck grins. "What? Don't like it?"

"My parents never really let me play a lot of sports so I never really got a taste for it. Especially not football."

It kind of makes sense said out loud like that. Donghyuck can't really imagine Renjun flushed and muddy with bruised knees and a jersey with his name on it. Even so, he says, "Well, maybe this year is the year you get a taste for it."

Renjun looks suitably skeptical. "I doubt that for some reason."

 

They idle around their room for a little while longer until Donghyuck suggests that they could go downstairs and harass the prefect into giving them the names of their other two, still absent, roommates.

It takes a little convincing and a wheedling tone of voice on Donghyuck's part to get Renjun to agree.

Halfway down the corridor, they find a boy struggling with his trunk, which had apparently snagged on a loose bit of carpet. He's hunched and muttering a little desperately under his breath, fingers tugging at the blood red threads that have latched onto a corner of the trunk.

Renjun spares him a passing, rather pitying look and carries on down the corridor. His posture, Donghyuck notes as he follows, is that of a much larger person, shoulders thrown back and head held high. It should look odd on such a small person but Renjun has the aura to fill it out.

Unlike Renjun, however, Donghyuck can't just walk past someone who is pretty obviously in distress. Not really because he's nice, although that is part of it, but more because of a constant, nagging urge to be liked by as many people as possible. And also because helping people very often means being owed a favor and Donghyuck likes being owed favors.

So he stops and stoops to tap the boy on the shoulder. "Do you need help?" 

Some of the anxiety that had been plaguing Donghyuck almost all morning lifted off his shoulders in the last half hour or so and now, bent double in a pretense of friendliness that isn't completely fake, his voice sounds more like his own again. Like stepping out of an anxiety-riddled skin and back into a familiar, comfortable one.

The boy starts and blinks up at him.

Donghyuck has now met _four_ ridiculously attractive people in this school. _Four_. That's already at least two too many.

"I – um, my trunk's sorta...stuck."

Donghyuck crouches down to help, steadfastly ignoring the way Renjun looms behind him.

They work together, knuckles and fingers bumping occasionally as they tear the threads away.

"This carpet is a safety hazard," Renjun says eventually, breaking the silence and making the boy startle again.

Donghyuck nods. "You didn't trip did you?"

"No, no. Just the trunk."

They straighten up again and Renjun holds out a hand before the command for it can even leave Donghyuck's brain.

"I'm Renjun Huang and this is Donghyuck. Nice to meet you. 

Shaking his hand the boy smiles at the both of them. It's a frightfully bright smile that makes his eyes crinkle into the shape of crescent moons. "I'm Jeno Lee."

"Are you new here?" Donghyuck asks, feeling like he already knows the answer.

Jeno Lee, with his crescent moon smile and nervous hands, nods. "You wouldn't happen to know how the rooming system here works? The prefect downstairs didn't really, um, explain it very well."

"Did you also get a little piece of paper when your book list came? About the size of a train ticket."

"Um" – he digs around in the pockets of his blazer for the piece of paper – "I did, yeah."

Renjun deftly plucks it out of his hands.

"Nemesis," Donghyuck, who had been peering over Renjun's shoulder, says. He looks up and grins at Jeno, whose mouth twitches up into a confused little smile, almost like he can't help himself. "You're with us, Jeno Lee."

 

They shuffle back down the corridor, Renjun leading the way while Donghyuck helps Jeno with his trunk. The sound of footsteps and voices echoes up from the staircase and the floors below. More students arrive the closer the clock ticks to 5 PM.

Renjun shoulders the door open with a grunt and makes a beeline for his bed. 

"So are you two also – oh, _wow_ " – Jeno stops dead in the doorway – "this room is so nice?"

Both Donghyuck and Renjun glance around disinterestedly as if they hadn't been in the same position just a couple of minutes before.

The walls are still a soft yellow, the floor still made out of dark oak and columns of light are still streaming through the windows, catching the dust drifting through the air in a way that makes everything look almost dreamlike.

"Bigger than you'd think, isn't it?" Renjun says, kicking the door the rest of the way shut as Jeno and Donghyuck drag the trunk further into the room.

"I think this is bigger than our whole living room back home," Jeno says. He's turning slowly on the spot, hands hanging limply at his sides as he takes everything in.

"Well," Renjun says, clambering up onto his bed, "there are two beds left to pick from. Which one do you want?"

Jeno freezes mid-turn, head swiveling back and forth between the two empty beds. Light, slanting through the windows catches him rather dramatically, the slats paint a shadowy cross across his face.

"Would you mind" – he turns to Renjun – "if I took the bed next to yours?"

Renjun snorts at the look of mock hurt Donghyuck paints onto his face and says, "Be my guest."

They help Jeno push his trunk against the foot of his bed and then sit in companionable silence for a while.

The nervous energy that Jeno had exuded in the corridor earlier has ebbed away leaving behind a quiet, tranquil aura that sets the other two at ease. It's not a kind of energy Donghyuck would've automatically associated with him. Jeno is handsome in a rather upfront way. A straight no-nonsense nose, a sharp jaw, and soft, black hair; it's almost frustrating how much he looks like the protagonist out of a teenage girl's romance novel.

The few things that manage to soften the brashness of his looks are his posture for example – slightly slouched and comfortable – and the way his mouth curls up at the corners, giving him a perpetually smiling expression.

It sets a nice balance against the rather severe air that Renjun seems to possess.

"So are you two new too?" Jeno asks, picking up his unfinished question from before.

Renjun yawns and nods. "I was taking an accelerated course at my old school and was planning on graduating this year instead of next, but some – some things happened and my parents thought it best that I finish my last two years in a different environment."

"So you're not on an accelerated course anymore? Don't they have that sort of thing here?" Donghyuck stretches a leg across the gap between the two beds to poke Renjun's ankles.

"They do have courses like that, but I'm not taking part in any. I'm doing the regular two-year thing. Like you," he adds as an afterthought.

"Why?" Donghyuck asks rather rudely.

Renjun's gives him a frosty look. "Because my parents wanted me to," he says with a finality that marks the topic as off-limits.

It's the awkward conversational fumblings of people who don't know each other very well but know that they will have to in the span of 39 weeks and might as well get started now.

Sketching a figurative map of what topics and phrases are safe and which are not. It will make living together a lot easier, especially if it turns out that their camaraderie won't ever grow past those safe, comfortable topics.

"What about you?" Jeno picks up the shredded strands of the conversation with an easy smile which he turns on Donghyuck.

Feeling Renjun's searchlight-like gaze on him Donghyuck chooses to focus on Jeno's hands that are still restless in his lap. It's strange, he thinks distractedly, for someone who has the easy confidence and looks of a romance novel protagonist to have hands that tremble and fidget.

"Well," he says carefully, "to put it in the nicest terms: I wasn't _invited back_ to my old school."

The snort of laughter Jeno lets out makes whatever hostility had remained in the air after Renjun and Donghyuck's little spat evaporate. "You got expelled?" He asks, mouth stretching into a disbelieving smile.

Donghyuck shrugs modestly. "One of my more minor achievements."

"I don't think I even want to _know_ what you're implying with that," Renjun says, but a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth betrays his tone.

"Why'd you get expelled?"

"Oh, you know, minor things. I was a troubled” – he slaps a pair of air quotes around the word – “child, according to the school board." His face brightens as he remembers. "There was a hearing and everything. It was terribly exciting."

" _Exciting_?"

"Well, it was the first time in almost half a year that I got to see my parents in a room together, so yes, _exciting_."

The sentence hangs awkwardly in the air for a second or two, the other two boys unsure if they're allowed to push the subject or not.

"They're divorced," Donghyuck says quickly, eager to cut the lingering silence short.

"Oh," Jeno says weakly. "I'm – I'm sorry?"

The pinched look on Renjun's face seems to echo his sentiment and Donghyuck waves them off with an airy flap of the hand. "It's alright! I mean, it's not, really. But, I'm fine with it. Better seeing them apart than constantly at each other’s throats." 

Both Jeno and Renjun share a look and Donghyuck hastily casts around for a change of topic. Thankfully the task is taken care of when the door flies open and they're faced with their fourth and final roommate.

He's tall – taller than all three of them, although not by much –  with light brown hair and wide, dark eyes that sweep around the room with a familiarity indicating that he is not a stranger to this room or this school.

Then his face splits into a grin and he says, in a voice that's a lot deeper than what Donghyuck had been expecting, "Well, well, _well_. Look at what the tide's dragged in." He pulls his trunk over the threshold and kicks the door shut with a practiced kick.

Renjun's the first to rouse himself, slipping off his bed to hold out a polite hand. "Renjun Huang, pleased to meet you."

"Jaemin Na," Jaemin says, grabbing Renjun's hand and shaking it vigorously, "absolutely thrilled."

He grins down at Renjun and then at the room at large. His gaze is intense, not _scary_ as such, but if Donghyuck had been a more timid soul he would've considered cowering under it. Renjun meets his gaze evenly, mouth pulled into what is only distantly related to a smile.

Jaemin reaches Jeno next, hand already outstretched and Jeno takes it, rising from the bed to shake it properly.

"And you are?" Jaemin asks.

Jeno, obviously a little taken aback by, well, _everything_ about Jaemin, still manages to conjure up a grin to rival Jaemin's. "Jeno Lee. I'm new here." He gestures at Renjun and Donghyuck. "All of us are, actually."

"Oh?" He turns his gaze on Donghyuck. "You too?"

Donghyuck nods mutely and Jaemin's megawatt grin softens ever so slightly into a smile as he holds out a hand again. "Who am I kidding," he says, "I would've remembered a face like yours."

Donghyuck sails straight past _flattered_ and right into _challenged_ and _vaguely threatened_. He's used to being the one throwing around flirtatious comments like that and having one come his way feels wrong. 

But, first impressions count and Jaemin has a distinct shark-like air about him which makes Donghyuck wary of crossing him, at least this early into the school year. So he grits his teeth and says, "Donghyuck Lee. Nice – nice to meet you." 

Jaemin beams at him and then at the rest of them, rows of sparkling, white teeth on full display. "Oh, this is going to be so much  _fun_."  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me abt hyuckmin/tvxq/00 line dynamics here: 
> 
> [tumblr2](https://neoshinki.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/saddermachine)


	2. follow me, however you're pulled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from tvxq's [the chance of love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3wnHiK5sKgA) (yes this is turning into a running theme, i'm sorry)

The rest of the day passes in a blur of disjointed events that Donghyuck can barely categorize. 

Jaemin digs a gas stove (presumably meant for camping, not boarding school dorm rooms) out of his trunk and proudly sets it up on one of the desks that stand on either side of the windows.

The desk closest to Donghyuck's bed actually, something he's not too thrilled about and something Jaemin picks up on immediately. He flicks the flames on and off a couple of times until Renjun tells him to stop. 

Donghyuck ignores him, knowing he'd rather die than voice any complaint. 

"We could switch beds, you know," Jaemin says, sidling up to Donghyuck who's in the middle of filling his side of their shared dresser. "If the gas stove thing makes you uncomfortable."

"Why would I be uncomfortable?"  

"Well," Jaemin starts, "you _looked_ uncomfortable."

Donghyuck decides to dignify that with a glance. "You barely know me. How would you know what I look like when I'm uncomfortable?" 

"Were you?" 

"Was I?"

Jaemin's eyes narrow ever so slightly. " _Are_ you?"

"Of course not," Donghyuck replies breezily, stepping around Jaemin to get to his trunk. 

 

A gas stove isn't the only unconventional thing Jaemin has in his trunk; there's a little metal pan which he tucks into one of the desk's drawers, a tin filled to the brim with teabags (the expensive kind) and at least 6 plain, enamel mugs. 

Renjun, who gets tasked with hiding them in the bottom drawer of his dresser, inspects the bottom of one of the mugs and asks, "Jaemin?"

Jaemin, kneeling in front of his trunk, turns around. "Renjun?"

"Did you steal these from the Red Cross?" Renjun's tone isn't accusatory, just politely interested. 

Both Jeno and Donghyuck pause what they're doing to gauge Jaemin's reaction. 

He gets up and plucks one of the mugs out of Renjun's hands to peer at it. The mug looks tiny in his hands and Donghyuck stares until he realizes he's staring and looks away, inspecting his own hands, a little confused. 

"Oh, these  _are_ from the Red Cross," Jaemin exclaims, delighted. 

Renjun raises a single eyebrow. "Yes. That's what I said." 

"Well, I don't remember stealing them" – Jaemin hands the mug back to Renjun – "I just found them in a cupboard at home." 

"Does someone in your family work for the Red Cross?" Jeno asks, elbow deep in a pillowcase. 

Jaemin snorts and Renjun's other eyebrow shoots up to join its twin.

" _Funny_ ," he laughs, "you're funny. But no, no. No one in my family works for the Red Cross."

"So..." Jeno trails off, obviously not wanting to jump to any conclusions. Jaemin hasn't revealed much about his family and his clothes and demeanor offer no real clues to anything except to the fact that he's obnoxious and no one needs clues to figure that out. 

"Maybe someone in your family picked them up in a charity shop or something," Renjun says, kindly giving Jaemin the benefit of the doubt. 

"Or maybe," Donghyuck adds, not one for leaving the unspoken alone, "someone in your family  _stole_ them." He meets the look Renjun gives him over Jaemin's shoulder with a shrug and a grin. 

The grin disappears pretty quickly, however, when Jaemin plops down right next to him, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "It's possible," he admits easily and Renjun's eyebrows disappear back behind his fringe. 

There's a lull in the conversation.

Jeno gets back to making his bed, clambering around the creaking metal frame trying to make the sheet stay tucked in at the corners. Donghyuck, bed already made, makes to get up to help but Jaemin's arm stays looped around his shoulders, making it quite difficult for him to extract himself. 

"What do you  _want_? He finally asks, dropping his hands into his lap in defeat. 

Jaemin's so close that Donghyuck has to lean back slightly to catch the full expanse of his grin. "Well, I thought since we're roommates now that we should get know each other a bit better." 

" _Well_ ," Donghyuck imitates acidly, "you can do that whilst keeping your hands to yourself." 

"Ooh, feisty." 

The yelp Jaemin lets out when Donghyuck reaches up and pinches him  _hard_ on the back of the offending hand comes at the same time as loud metallic clang that makes everyone jump. Clearly rattled, Jaemin retracts his arm from around Donghyuck's shoulders, a pained grimace replacing his usual grin. 

"What was – are you alright?" 

Jeno's standing over his bed looking a little wild-eyed. The sheet he'd been trying to fix is a sad crumpled heap in the center of his mattress and Donghyuck puts one and two together. "Do you need help? This kind of thing is easier to do with two people." 

"Thank you," Jeno says quietly when Donghyuck gets to work without waiting for a reply. 

A few feet away Renjun's still crouched by his dresser and when Donghyuck glances up from where he's got his fingers trapped between the bed frame and mattress his mouth twitches up into an inquisitive smile. Donghyuck follows his gaze to where Jaemin is sprawled out on his bed. 

"You have your own bed, you know." 

There's a creak of rusty springs as Jaemin sits up. "This has been my bed for as long as I've been at this school."

"Not this year it isn't." 

"We could switch," Jaemin proposes sweetly.

Yanking his hand free Donghyuck replies just as sweet. "In your dreams." 

Both Renjun and Jeno are watching their interaction with a mixture of interest (mostly Jeno) and exasperation (Renjun). The chrome, bedside clock Jeno has set up on his side of the dresser ticks through the silence. Little pulses of annoyance keep pushing to the forefront of Donghyuck's mind, making him grind his teeth in an effort to keep any ill-intentioned words in check. 

It's the first day and first impressions count, even though he's not entirely sure what kind of impression Jaemin has of him.

With the other two, it had been easier, he thinks a little plaintively. 

Renjun feels like a kindred spirit of sorts, perceptive and just friendly enough to make conversation easy. They get along – maybe not like a house on fire – but more like a smoldering cigarette butt that could, if dropped in the right place, set a whole forest alight. 

Jeno, on the other hand, is so nice he's almost unreadable.

It should bother Donghyuck more than it does because it all feels a bit like an act; like Jeno is carefully presenting the part of himself he feels is most agreeable to strangers. But this action in of itself proves a point  _against_ the nice, if rather bland, version of himself that he's showing to everyone. And that's something Donghyuck can respect and understand. He's doing the exact same thing, after all.

First day nerves seem to turn even the best kind of people into actors and liars. 

Jaemin poses a bit of a problem, however. He stubbornly refused to fit in either of those categories and it annoys Donghyuck to no end. 

There is no easy click like there was with Renjun and no kinship coming from a similar coping mechanism for anxiety, like with Jeno. 

He, very consciously and obnoxiously, worms his way out of any category Donghyuck can possibly fit him under; and does that with a smirk and shrug that makes Donghyuck's fingers twitch. 

But when Donghyuck manages to look past the brash, personal-space-invading aspect of Jaemin's personality he's somewhat relieved to find that Jaemin seems at as much of a loss at what to do with Donghyuck as he is with Jaemin.

That, at least, is something they have in common. 

His internal monologue comes to a very abrupt halt when the door flies open with a crash that makes the windows rattle in their frames. 

All four them stare in shock at the prefect who'd been greeting everyone earlier. His dark mop of hair is wild – wilder than it already was – and there are blotches of color high on his cheeks. 

When no one says anything he points a threatening finger at Jaemin, who's closest to the door and says, "All of you. Downstairs. Five minutes. Or I'm gonna skin you alive." 

He slams the door shut and they're left in a ringing silence. 

Outside the sun sinks closer and closer towards the horizon. Rays of orange tinted light brush the treetops and fill the room with a sticky glow. But even in this light Renjun looks as pale as a sheet, paler even; lips pressed together in a thin, anxious line.

Seeing Renjun of all people look nervous seems to trigger something in the other two as well, because Jeno also gets to his feet, stuffing his trembling hands deep into his trouser pockets, back to the sun and face cast in shadow.

Donghyuck stays put, waiting for his stomach to calm down enough for him to make the trek downstairs. 

It's with some surprise that he watches Jaemin also get to his feet, the confident tilt of his head softening ever so slightly. To most people, this minuscule change would have been imperceptible, but to Donghyuck, who'd spent the last five minutes glaring at the back of his neck, it comes like a slap in the face. 

Jaemin ushers them out into the corridor and keeps up a steady, meaningless stream of chatter as they make their way downstairs.

It's oddly calming and Donghyuck feels a fresh surge of annoyance (at himself this time) when Jaemin's aimless tangent about a 9th year who flooded the 1st-floor bathroom last year makes the corners of his mouth twitch. Even Renjun, looking quite ghost-like in the lightless stairwell, seems to find it within himself to look reluctantly amused. 

On the ground floor, they join a steady trickle of students that leads them past the common room, of which Donghyuck only catches a brief glance and down the main hallway. The black and white tiled floor and high vaulted ceiling magnify every step and word to a deafening level and by the time they reach the door Jaemin's practically shouting to be heard. 

A queue forms and they huddle around him, peering around at the other students trying to detect if they're new like them or not. Jaemin has stopped talking but they barely notice over the general din. 

"Careful," Jaemin hisses, making them all start, " _look_." 

The queue edges forward a little and Jeno cranes his neck to look over the heads in front of them. "What? He whispers. 

Three steps forward and Jaemin points, not all too subtly, at a tall, spindly-looking woman with a narrow face. She's taller than any woman Donghyuck's ever seen, taller even than the most gangly, awkward boy in their building. 

Her eyes are brown, a dark, _dark_  brown – almost black – and they rove over the hoard of students with an intensity that makes Donghyuck's skin crawl. When Renjun's hand suddenly lands on his elbow the first thing he thinks of is black, glittering scarab beetles scuttering over his skin and it takes a great deal of self-restraint not to shake him off. 

"She looks like a character out of a novel," Renjun whispers, eyes fixed on the woman-like spectre waiting at the door. 

They shuffle another couple of steps forward and Donghyuck quickly grows accustomed to warmth and weight of Renjun's arm, now linked with his own. The creeping flood of black beetles gets banished to the back of his mind. 

"That's the matron," Jaemin says, adopting the hushed tone of a tour guide in an old, especially haunted church. 

A 9th year in front of them is trembling like a leaf in a storm as he passes under her gaze and out into the golden haze of the evening. 

They're next and Donghyuck briefly catches Jaemin's eye as he glances behind him to check if they're all still there. Jeno's got a hand firmly gripping the back of his jacket. Like he's a child scared of getting lost in a crowded shopping centre.

Donghyuck looks away when Jaemin, seemingly unable to help himself, winks. He means to look up at the sky, which looks like someone dropped a match in an endless lake of petrol, but his eyes meet the beetle-ish eyes of the matron instead. 

Like the corridors upstairs, her eyes seem to swallow light. None of the reds and golds of the sky are reflected there and Donghyuck can't make himself look away. 

She smiles suddenly, a smile as stiff and starched as the collar on her blouse. Jaemin turns around  _again_  an innocent look plastered across his face that Donghyuck instinctively takes as a challenge. 

Blinking back up at the matron he bares his teeth in what is barely a smile and out of the corner of his eye he sees Jaemin smirk, self-satisfied and knowing.

Donghyuck can't help but feel like he's walked into a trap. 

 

The school chapel, Donghyuck decides as they follow Jaemin inside, is enchanted. 

From the outside, it looks deceitfully small; old, grey stone with arched windows and heavy oak doors. It too seems to eat up light and the closer they get to it the more of the lazy evening brilliance fades out of the air. 

Like their room, the chapel faces the west and the setting sun which means that the rather spartan stained glass at the far end of the chapel is lit up like it's on fire. It's the only other source of light aside from the struggling, little lamps fixed to the walls between numerous pictures of Jesus Christ in various stages of agony. 

There are around 200 students at this boarding school, almost evenly split between weekly boarders and full-time. Judging the church from the outside one would think it'll burst at the seams what with the sudden stampede of not-yet-monotone-ly-dressed boys of various ages, but the inside is surprisingly cavernous. 

The pews on the ground floor of the chapel are already mostly full and Jaemin directs them up a tightly spiraling staircase on the right that leads up to the galleries. 

"Why the right side," Jeno asks, squeezing past a pair of brutish looking boys who grudgingly fold their knees in to let him pass. He has a point; the galleries on the left side of the chapel are still a lot emptier than on the right. 

"Because," Jaemin replies, ducking around a pillar, "Woodside and Willow sit on the right and Riverside and Rose sit on the left." Jeno opens his mouth, brow furrowed. "That's just how it is," he adds. 

"It's because the dorm buildings of Woodside and Willow are on the right-hand side of the courtyard and the others on the left," Renjun says. "It carries over into every other big seating arrangement in this school. W's on the right, R's on the left." 

Donghyuck snorts, reaching out a steadying hand when Renjun sways dangerously on a loose floorboard. "Was that in the brochure?" 

"No" – Renjun pats his hand in a rather patronizing manner – "it's logic and the basic skill of observation."

Jaemin finds them a free row of seats right at the edge of the gallery, giving them a perfect bird's eye view of the teachers, staff and other students. The first of those two are seated at the front, right in front of the podium and altar. 

Donghyuck plops down between Jeno and Jaemin and immediately leans forward to prop his chin on the banister, eyeing the chattering crowd below. 

"Who's that?" He points down at one of the teachers sitting in the front row. 

Jaemin braces his hands on the banister and leans forward, so far in fact, that Jeno reaches around Donghyuck to pull him back into safety. "Who?" He asks, gaze following the vague direction of Donghyuck's finger. 

"That guy, with the – _there_. With the curly brown hair." Donghyuck jabs his finger more aggressively. 

There's a pause and then, "Oh,  _him_." 

Donghyuck waits for him to elaborate and when he doesn't he aims a sharp kick at Jaemin's shin. "So?" He asks. 

"That's Coach Moon. He teaches PE and biology and sometimes he takes his class out to go mushroom hunting." 

That makes even Renjun, who had been busy scrutinizing the students on the opposite gallery, turn around, brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and a distant cousin of disgust. 

"Mushroom hunting?" Jeno asks. His thoughts, much like Donghyuck's, seem to drift back to dark, menacing forest that lurks just on the edge of the football pitch. In the dimming, reddish light of the setting sun, it had looked like it was filled to brim with shadows. Shadows that skulked, anxiously waiting for the sun to disappear out of the sky. 

Jaemin's voice yanks him away from the edge of the forest and back into his seat. "– usually he does it in late April because it's warmer and I think once, like two years ago or something, he took a biology class out in October and one of the kids almost died. So,  _you know_. Doesn't really cast October in a very favorable light." 

"How the f–" Donghyuck gets cut off when the great oak doors slam shut with a resounding crash and silence falls. 

"That's the headmistress," Jaemin whispers helpfully when a small, black-haired woman takes to the podium in front of the altar. 

She could be Renjun's mother simply because of their similar height and the similar way they both carry themselves. Something as trivial as height obviously hasn't ever stood in her way when achieving her goals. 

"Welcome," she says, voice ringing clearly through the quiet chapel, "to another year."

She has quite a captivating voice and Donghyuck is actually paying attention when Jaemin's hand lands on his knee. Eyes still fixed on the headmistress Donghyuck peels Jaemin's hand off him. 

It lands back on his knee only seconds after he first removed it and his resolve crumbles a little. " _What_?" He hisses. 

"Want to know how that one kid almost died?" 

On Donghyuck's right, Jeno and Renjun perk up. Jaemin notices (because of course, he does) and his fingers dig into Donghyuck's thigh in what is probably supposed to be an encouraging nudge to say yes but succeeds only in making Donghyuck blush and glare. 

"If I say yes will you keep your hands to yourself?" 

Jaemin squeezes on more time before retracting his hand. The smile on his face betrays not even a smidgen of remorse. "I'm a gentleman, Donghyuck." 

"You are anything but," Donghyuck replies, tone sharp and shifts closer to Jeno who keeps his hands clamped under his legs. 

"Well, anyway," Jaemin says, ignoring Donghyuck's tone and leaning forward slightly so the other two could hear and see him better, "back, about two years ago, this school had a bit of a bullying problem. Not in general, but there was one kid who everyone seemed to really hate for some reason. Don't ask what he was called, I don't remember." 

Renjun, who had opened his mouth to ask that exact question, closes it again. 

"Anyway, he and a bunch of other 12th year's had biology with Coach Moon and he did his usual thing of taking those that stayed behind for the Halloween and the autumn holidays out for mushroom hunting in the forest. That forest is big mind you. And it doesn't have any proper trails, so getting lost isn't particularly difficult. Anyway. They were out, trampling around the forest and at some point they decided to make two groups; increase the mushroom findings and all that. The kid that everyone hated was put in the group not lead by Moon and –"

Renjun interrupts suddenly, voice hushed but excited. "Oh, I  _remember_." The other two stare at him, confused, so he elaborates. "It was in the brochure. The forest closer to the river has lots of clearings and in autumn and spring that land floods and becomes rather swamp-like. There are peat bogs scattered all along where the river cuts through the forest." 

Next Donghyuck Jaemin is nodding, eyes bright with a light that's almost feverish. "So what do you think happened?" 

"They pushed the kid that everyone hated into a bog," Jeno says, making the other two flinch. It's the first time he's talked since the headmistress took the podium. 

"They  _did_." 

Renjun frowns. "Did they do it with the intention of killing him or for laughs?" 

"Well, I think they did for laughs. A bit of harmless tormenting, you know, and only realized how badly they" – he glances around at the students seated behind them – "how badly the fucked up when the boy was up to his chest in, well, whatever bogs are made of."

"Jesus Christ–" Donghyuck mutters. "How'd they get him out?" 

"Someone ran for help and apparently Coach Moon went full adrenaline rush and singlehandedly pulled him out. You know, like when mothers lift cars off their trapped babies, that kind of thing." 

They all peer back down at the floor below and the tufts of curly brown hair that belong to the Coach. 

"Why is he dressed like that?" Renjun suddenly asks, leaning out further than the others. 

Jeno squints. "Like what?" 

"Are you  _blind_? Look." 

Donghyuck nudges a bony elbow between Jeno's ribs. "Eyesight not what it was when you were young?" 

With a sheepish smile Jeno nods and replies, "Happens with old age, doesn't it?" 

"Oh, you mean  _that_ ," Jaemin says, obviously not having a heard a word. "Yeah, Coach Moon wears _a lot_ of tracksuits."

Donghyuck eyes him, suspicious. "Exactly how many is  _a lot_?" 

"Well" – Jaemin leans back in his seat – "let us just say I've only ever seen him in normal clothes 5 times in all of the four years that I've been at this school."

They stare at him. 

"That's impossible," Renjun says flatly.

"Nothing's impossible when you surname's Moon and you've pulled a kid out of a bog," Jaemin says like that makes sense and effectively closes any discussion of the subject. 

 

Assembly ends in a great scrape of old wooden pews against even older stone floor. 

Donghyuck and the others make to get up as well, but Jaemin grabs him by the arm and forcefully yanks him back into his seat.

“I have to show you all something,” he whispers, a conspiratory glint in his eyes.

"Now?" Renjun asks, glancing around at the people slowly filtering back down the staircase. 

"Yes,  _now_."

Donghyuck, pulling his arm out of Jaemin's grip, turns to the others and says, "We might as well, it's not like we're missing much." 

"We're missing _supper_ ," Jeno says, aghast. 

"It won't take long, I promise." 

The three of them share a look and come to a silent agreement. 

"Fine," Jeno relents and they follow Jaemin downstairs. 

 

They hover in the cramped stairwell for about ten minutes until Jaemin deems the coast clear and rushes across to the far end of the chapel. The others follow, a little reluctantly. 

Now that they're alone the sound of their footsteps and the soft rustle of their clothing gets magnified to a volume that makes them all shift uncomfortably. It echoes dimly around the steadily darkening chapel. The lights on the walls had been switched off by a loitering teacher and now with the last remnants of sunlight fading out of the sky it's getting well and truly dark. 

"This is creepy," Donghyuck mutters, eyes skittering around the dark corners beneath the galleries. 

"Scared of the dark, huh?" Jaemin says absentmindedly and Donghyuck ignores him. 

Jaemin's hunched over the lock of a particularly old door set in an alcove behind the altar. The light metal clicking tells them all they need to know. 

Renjun sinks bonelessly into a pew and watches Jaemin pick the lock with a look of mild interest. As if he's watching an ant pull something way too big for its size back to the ant hill. "You can pick locks?" He finally asks when the silence becomes too much to bear. 

"You can't?" 

Jaemin must've felt Renjun's glare burn holes into the back of his neck because he quickly revises his answer. "I can teach you if you want." 

The pew creaks loudly as Renjun sits up and stretches. "No, I'm alright. There are probably books and manuals that are more consistently helpful." 

Donghyuck snorts and Jeno's presses his forehead against a nearby pillar to hide his grin. 

"Now, that's just rude. What makes you think I'm not consistent?"

"Are you really asking?" 

The clicking pauses briefly as Jaemin considers this. "I suppose not," he finally says and gets back to picking the lock. 

About 15 minutes later, after any remaining light faded out of the sky and effectively plunged the chapel into darkness, Jaemin manages to unlock the door. 

They crowd up another narrowly spiraling staircase, eager to get out of the eerily exposed main body of the chapel with shadows steadily creeping out of every nook and cranny. Jeno's hands, after a brief stint of stillness during the assembly, have started trembling again and Renjun grabs one them as they climb the stairs. 

"This better be worth it," Donghyuck says. The urge to run is crawling up his spine with every slow step they take, he's bringing up the rear and the gaping blackness of the doorway behind him is making a strange, primal fear clog up his lungs. 

When an overwhelming wave of it makes the muscles in his legs shake he reaches out to grab Jeno's other hand. The whites of his eyes glint in the faint blue-ish light that drips down the ancient stone walls around them. 

Finally, after a couple of suffocating seconds, they reach whatever Jaemin wanted to show them. 

It's a room. Unsurprisingly. 

Small and desolate in the darkness, with creaking dusty floorboards and a sloping roof, wooden beams sagging with age and rot. 

Jeno is the first to find his voice. "Um," he says, slowly turning on the spot, "this – this is a...place." 

Groping around in the darkness Renjun finds a desk and a chair and slumps into it, head tipped back to inspect the ceiling. There's a threadbare carpet on the floor and Donghyuck almost succeeds in cracking his skull open by tripping over it. 

"There's a hole in the ceiling," Renjun says in a tone implying he's making small talk about the weather. Which he could if he wanted to since he can literally  _see_ the weather. 

"Isn't it  _cool_?" Jaemin asks, kid-like joy permeating every syllable and Donghyuck almost finds it within himself to feel apologetic for their lacklustre reaction. 

"It's" – Jeno falters again – "it's certainly something." 

"Why?" Donghyuck asks, cutting to the chase.  

Jaemin's posture grows defensive. "This is – this is  _my_ spot. Since, like, the first day I came to this school. No one else comes up here except me. I  _know_. I know that for a fact. Over the last couple of years, I've asked every teacher and pastor we've had if they have a key to this door, and none of them do." He takes a deep breath and Donghyuck sees Renjun sitting up a little straighter. "I've never shown anyone this. Haven't even told anyone about it, not directly at least."

"Thank you for telling us," Jeno says, sounding genuine. 

"It gets loud at the dorms sometimes, even in the library," Jaemin continues, obviously still feeling a need to explain himself. Jeno's comment goes unheard. "And this – there's a desk and it's not  _that_ small. And it's quiet and private and I mean, yeah, in Winter it isn't ideal, but in Spring and Summer..." he trails off, looking embarrassed. 

"We can make it our secret hangout spot when the dorms get too loud," Renjun says, nodding like it's already been decided. 

Jaemin's shoulders visibly relax and he's back to his comfortably confident slouch. 

Renjun's easy conviction in his statement, that they'll need a secret hangout spot, just for them, makes Donghyuck's heart feel like it's swallowed a whole balloon's worth of helium. He's never had a secret hangout spot, never needed one and never had anyone to share one with. 

He's never shared a secret with even one person, let alone  _three_. Never stuck around anywhere long enough for a thought like that to even enter his head. 

They look at each other then, under the pale shaft of moonlight that slants through the hole in the roof and Donghyuck's heart beats so fast he feels like he might explode. It's strangely intimate. As if a thin, pale blue string is winding its way around all four of them; around Renjun slumped in his chair, around Jeno leaning against a rotting wooden beam and around Jaemin and Donghyuck standing freely in the middle of the tiny room.

The secret settles somewhere below his ribs, like a pretty little parcel tied up with the pale blue string of fate. 

 

To absolutely no one's surprise they miss supper entirely and trudge back to their room in the dark, stomach's empty but heart's perhaps a little lighter than they had been at 5 PM this afternoon. 

After changing and washing a day's worth of grime and anxiety off their faces they settle on the floor between their beds. 

Jaemin puts his gas cooker to use and brews six strong and expensive cups of tea. There's no milk so they settle for just sugar, something Jaemin magicks out of the depths of his trunk. 

The food issue is covered by the miraculous appearance of a tin about the size of a small baby (if babies were perfectly round and made out of metal) that comes out of Jeno's trunk. It's filled to bursting with all kinds of delicious sticky treats. Slices of pound cake covered with lemon icing, custard, and jam tarts and slices of sponge cake that drip strawberry jam and buttercream down their wrists and fingers. 

It's with a great deal of restraint that they manage to leave some of the things for future late night snacks. The madeleines and chocolate chip cookies get wrapped back up in the greaseproof paper and put back in the tin, which gets shoved rather unceremoniously under Jeno's bed. 

They go to bed, stomachs, and hearts full and sweet. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hands up if you shed actual tears over the "dear dream" video :)) 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/saddermachine) and [tumblr](https://neoshinki.tumblr.com/)


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